


Stop the Whole World

by gloatingraccoon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Basically Vriska is a smuggler in space and of course she's going to steal an Imperial ship, Blood, Body Horror, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Friendship, Helmsman, IN SPACE!, Ladystuck 2013, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Quadrant Confusion, Sensitive content tags added just to be safe, Space Pirates, This isn't really graphic but still mentions squicky things, Wounds, like seriously what did you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloatingraccoon/pseuds/gloatingraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Vriska Serket and yours is not a line of business in which it pays to play it safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop the Whole World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liasangria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liasangria/gifts).



> _Don't you ever wonder_  
>  _How we survive?_  
>  _Now that you're gone_  
>  _The world_  
>  _Is ours_  
>  \- ["Monster", Paramore](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoTEnaAI9Fo)  
> 

I.

Your name is Vriska Serket and you have been looking forward to this for a long time.

Once you set your eyes on the  _Scarlet_   _Lightning_ , you knew there was no going back. It was no hulking, massive battleship, made to quench rebellions in blood and beat new planets into submission, but a light, sleek frigate as fast as no other Imperial ship you had ever seen. Anywhere there was an outlaw to track down, a precarious political balance to strategically tip in the Empire's favour, the  _Scarlet_   _Lightning_  was there, stacked with quick, deadly laughssassins.

So yes, by all logic the  _Scarlet Lightning_  was nothing less than your natural enemy: you should have feared it and shunned it, not coveted it. But yours is not a line of business in which it pays to play it safe. By  _your_  logic, the only one that ever meant anything to you, the  _Scarlet Lightning_  was made to be yours. 

Sure, the good old  _Spinneret_   has always served you well, and you've worked on it so much, as Kanaya dutifully reminds you in a half-hearted attempt to make you change your mind (as if). Your Helmsman has been basically pan dead from sweeps before you stole the _Spinneret_ , but you have upgraded the engines so that you can still make the best of what little psionic pulse is left, and worked hard on the shields and your network of fake identities so that the  _Spinneret_  is next to impossible to track. Why risk stealing an Imperial ship, of all things?

"Do I need reminding you that yours is not a line of business in which it pays  to be overconfident?" Kanaya says, peering through the  _Spinneret's_  windows at the silhouette of your target slowly, ominously approaching. Judging from her perfectly tinted lips bent in a pouty curl and that tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows, she's worried, but doesn't want to meddle. Not like she could help it, or really change your mind in any way, but you suppose it is flattering. Actually, scratch that, it is dreadfully cute. You smirk and dramatically toss your hair in that way you just know she's going to eyeroll at - and she does, but with an overtone of fondness and mild, patronising amusement. You don't mind. You can work with that.

"Boring. If you're scared of fun you can leave any time, Maryam," you say, without really believing a pinch of it, of course. You wait for her to shrug and her eyebrows to arch in the usual way she reminds you that you should really know better, and there she goes.

"If you are having too much fun to think straight, what good will that do? There's got to be someone around to keep an eye on you, remember. And if not me, then who?"

You roll your eyes. You know she would never even consider leaving, and not because she has simply gone too far, tagging along on your smuggling adventures. It feels like you two were hatched for this: you on the deck, elbows deep in your schemes, maneuvers and dubious business, and her by your side, discussing plans with you, bringing you back on the ground whenever you lose sight of the big picture. She's always been on your side, even when you were an awful, frightened kid destroying any semblance of ties you had left because aggression and dominance were the only things you had ever known, even when everyone else left, and with good reason, she stayed - because she knew how to take care of the awful kid you were, and for some reason you still don't quite get, she thought it was worth it. So when the time to leave Alternia came and you went rogue, it was only natural for her to follow you.

Sometimes you wish she would just give in and pap your face, so at least this would be clearer, it would have a name. And sometimes, just like now, when all she's doing is listening and looking at you, as if you were actually worth looking at for some reason, you're afraid she would. Because you don't think that is what you really want.

"Ok, miss Fussyfangs. Let's rehash the plan then."

You usually make a big show of not listening to her, but you always do. She makes some pretty good points.

You know this is the right moment to strike: you have been studying the  _Scarlet Lightning_  from a while, tailing them from a careful distance, and you've seen them losing speed and maneuvering precision. Earlier tonight they sent out an unstable, crackling SOS signal, and it sounded like an invitation you couldn't refuse.

_Help this -- this is the HICS 413 Scarlet Lightning we -- psionic anomaly we -- emergency -- no instrumentation -- help -- directions -- this is the HICS 413 Scarlet -- no light -- request -- we need_

The poor bastards have probably been slacking on proper maintenance of their Helmsman and now their ship is throwing a fit. Laughssassins are not known for their technical skills, and they're used to the Empire taking care of everything for them. You almost feel sorry for them as you fake the signal of a nearby space station and carefully lead them to an abandoned outpost on the meteor you're hiding in. Emphasis on almost.

When you strike, they don't even see it coming. Your psionic cannons blast off with a roar, melting down their shields like ice, and every light you can still see on the frigate goes dark. This worries you: the ship seems to be in an even worse shape than you thought, and you want to conquer it, not damage it irreversibly. What if their Helmsman dies on you? Transferring your Helmsman to their ship would be too risky: he probably wouldn't survive the shock of being disconnected and having to bond from scratch to a new station. You have to investigate this yourself.

Their cannons swirl vaguely in the  _Spinneret's_  direction, but can't fire, as you unload the transfer bridge and anchor it to one of their top hatches. You grip your trusted flourite octet and lead the way down with Kanaya by your side, followed by a few of the best fighters in your crew.

As you touch ground, the lights flicker on again, just in time to let you see a dark robed figure sprint in an awkward run to disappear behind a corner. A familiar prickle blooms under your left eyelid, the unmistakable sign of an emotion that's no mystery for your vision eightfold.

Fear.

You smirk. So these are the deadly laughssassins? At least they're succeeding in making you laugh. It's all too easy with scared people. They're all so impressionable.

You throw your dice and your sword unfurls in your hand as you charge ahead through the ship's corridors, the tendrils of your mind reaching out to grasp and pull at any fringe of vulnerability that could be useful. Those who were once the pride of the Empire's not-so-secret police, now are reduced to cowering in corners and pathetically groveling at your feet, and are quickly shackled and secured away by your crew. The Empire put them on a leash to exploit their natural bloodlust, but coddled them so much that once out of their element, they're nothing compared to people like you and your crew, who've had to work and gain every inch of freedom they have. The few who actually try to put up a fight, the indigo blooded officers, you find them when you reach the deck, but they make a few mistakes too many. They try to target Kanaya, for one, and are rewarded with an all-too-close encounter with both her chainsaw and your sword.

"Ok everybody, now let's throw the bodies away with the trash and lock down the prisoners!" You shout, making sure all your crew is listening. "We need to start with the reparations and leave as soon as possible!" You look at Kanaya, currently wiping a spray of indigo blood from her cheek with a napkin, and you furrow your brow; one of those idiots almost sunk a dagger in her flank before you slashed him down. You don't like to think of that. "Are you ok?" you say, sheathing back your sword, and it disappears, the dice tumbling back between your fingers.

"Yes, I am," she replies, smiling without really looking at you, and as a tiny droplet of indigo blood slips on her upper lip, she licks it off, probably without even realizing it. Something about that makes you flush and turn away abruptly, and you're almost glad when the lights flicker back into darkness again, providing you with a convenient change of subject.

"Uh... we should go see the Helmsman. I don't like this."

You take Kanaya by the hand, knowing she doesn't see in the darkness as well as you do, and her fingers feel warm and slightly damp as they slip through yours. You squeeze her, hoping it reassures her a little bit. She's pretty good at taking care of your Helmsman, but you know she doesn't like it, no matter how much you repeat her that the guy in the  _Spinneret_  is not much more than a battery pack now, and cannot suffer anymore.

You expect the hatch to the Helm to be just under the Captain's seat, as is customary on Imperial ships and pretty much anywhere else, for simple ease of connection, and you are not disappointed as you descend the staircase, Kanaya's hand still wrung tight into yours, a strong, sweet smell of honey and disinfectants whirling up from below. What you do not expect, though, is to recognize the troll wrapped tight in a tangle of cables, restraints and tubes.

"Holy shit," you murmur, walking slowly up to the figure, and Kanaya stiffens close to you, but does not hesitate to follow.

"What is it? Is he dead?"

You shake your head. You can feel a psychic field pulsing around you, faint and unstable, but still present.

"It's not a he," you say.

As you get closer, more details emerge from the darkness, strenghtening the beating of your blood pusher in your chest. Heavy, curly horns, a wild mass of wavy black hair flowing everywhere, overgrown and unkempt. Crusted maroon blood and bruises, as well as clear signs of burns and infection where the cables and tubes violate the skin. Under the restraints, the remnants of clothes and a familiar sign.

When you reach the Helmsman, her eyes open to look at you, sunken, bloodshot maroon eyes, but she doesn't seem to see you. The lights go on again, and Kanaya gasps, her hand jolting away from your grasp to cover her mouth.

"Aradia?" she can barely whisper. You gulp, unable to take your eyes off that face - that face so familiar and yet so distorted at the same time, that face you never wanted to see here of all places, that face you thought you'd never see again -, and you're about to remind your friend that there's nothing she can do for her, she's probably pan dead like mr. Battery Pack over at the  _Spinneret_ , when Aradia blinks slowly, her face barely turning into Kanaya's direction. A shiver rolls down your spine when her mouth moves. She makes no sound, but you only need to look at her to know what she's saying.

"Kanaya."

* * *

II.

You are now Kanaya Maryam and you have no idea what to do.

But you remember Aradia Megido, all burning enthusiasm and soft, velvety laughter. You remember when she poked you on trollian to tell you all about her FLARPing adventures with Tavros, or how she had found an ancient temple, or an abandoned mine, or the remains of a grubloaf bakery. You remember when you poked her in turn to tell her about the latest cheesy romance you had read, and make her chuckle at the historical inaccuracies. You remember talking to her and feeling like you'd never met anyone as alive as she was. And now that you've found her again, you have to make sure she stays that way.

Your hands reach for the cable at the back of her head, but Vriska blocks you, her arms wrapping lightning fast around your waist and pulling you back. You growl and seethe, kicking and clawing at her arms, but she won't let you go. She's unfortunately bigger and stronger than you, and you can feel her wiry muscles press against your back. In other circumstances you'd almost enjoy it, the way you like it when you two have a moment of quiet and she grudgingly gives you a shoulder rub, or lets you help her out of her corset before sleep, and you just go along with it without saying anything, living on pathetic crumbs of stolen moments and glimpses of things that will never be - because let's not kid ourselves here, nothing will ever happen because she needs you to take care of her, because you're the only one who could and how can you do a good job of it if you let your delusions cloud your judgement? - but not now. Now it just makes you more mad.

"No no no, shoosh. Shoosh, Kanaya," Vriska whispers in your ear, awkwardly stroking your cheek, and you keen, your body coiling tight in her arms instead of calming down. You squirm in her hold enough to face her, panting, and the bewildered look on her face tells you you're probably pretty much scary right now. You don't mind. You can work with that.

"Do. Not. Pap me," you can barely whisper, your throat clenching tight as if you were about to cry, but you're not really sure why. "Ever again. Understood?"

Vriska nods after a long moment, and you see her swallow, but doesn't let you go yet.

"Ok. Ok, whatever you want. But I don't want you to do anything stupid. Think, Kanaya. What do you want to do, disconnect her? She's an Helmsman, she depends on the ship just like the damn ship depends on her.  _You cannot free her_. If you disconnect her, you're just going to have to plug her back in, or she won't survive. Kanaya, think about it, for fuck's sake."

You sigh, barely relaxing in her arms, and squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down your frustration. You know. Of course you know. It's you taking care of what's left of the  _Spinneret_ 's Helmsman, after all. But it's all too different, and way too complicated, when the slave at the core of the ship has a face you know.

 

"She won't have much time left anyway if we don't take care of her properly," you say. "It was their mistreatment of her that made the ship so vulnerable in the first place, and I don't think I can do a good job of it if the ship keeps draining her. You could reroute the power grid so that the  _Spinneret_ can take over for a short while, at least until she starts recovering."

Vriska's eyes turn into slits, and for a long moment you become lost in the deep cerulean blue of one and seven pupils, unable to take your glance away. In that moment, despite everything, despite the trust that you've carefully built up in sweeps, for the first time you wonder if she's trying to manipulate you. You wonder if she would ever do that, and if you would notice if she did. But it's just a moment.

"Alright," she says, nodding. "We can do that. But if you don't plug her back in, I will do it for you, ok?"

You nod without looking at her, and when she lets you go, you almost want to do something stupid such as hugging her, but don't. You're not really sure why in romance novels people smell like the weirdest things - like flowers and spices, for instance. Vriska smells like her sweat and the blood of her enemies, and you love it all the same.

Once the power grid is rerouted, Vriska helps you unplug and unwind Aradia from her restraints, then you carry her to the medical suite, and she leaves you alone to work on the ship's reparations. You look at your childhood friend lying down on the medical table, her arms and legs completely atrophied, her skin battered and bruised, and she looks back at you with a blank expression. Her chest barely moves as she breathes, and she doesn't seem to have much control on anything beyond keeping her eyes open and lolling her head in your vague direction. She's alive, you repeat yourself, no matter how dead she looks. She recognized you after all, didn't she? She's still there. 

So you talk to her. You carefully clean her scars, treat the wounds and the infected connectors embedded in her body, and talk about the happy memories you shared on Alternia. Inspecting the main connector on the back of her head, you cringe, noticing how thin and tattered the skin looks, as for multiple, severe burns that never healed properly, and if the cabinet contents are anything to go by, it looks like the laughssassins were just as generous in hurting her or exploiting her to her limits, as they were neglectful in properly sedating her. Those bastards. You administer her the usual round of rehydration, integrators, antibiotics and painkillers that are common procedure for recovering Helmsmen -as well as the submission serums she depends on to bind to the ship and survive, much to your regret-, and you ask her if she remembers about Alternia.

She looks at you like she did back down in the Helm, as if she didn't really see you, but somehow could still know you're there. A corner of her chapped lips seems to try to spring up, almost like a smile, and you figure they must feel so dry they hurt to move. You feel terribly silly, but fish from your purse a tube of lip balm, and dab it lightly against her lips.

When she mouths "yes" you almost want to cry.

You keep taking care of her, monitoring her vital signs, and as you talk she grows more and more responsive, although she's still pretty weak. You clean her up as well as you can, cut her overgrown, knotted hair, wash it and brush it. You tell her about your adventures with Vriska and what happened when you left Alternia, and although she only gives you a few, short, drawling comments like "really?", "great", "know that place" and "that's stupid", each one makes you feel triumphant. When you laugh, she tries laughing along, although it quickly turns into coughing, and you have to hold her head up and give her something to relax her throat next. When her parameters have stabilized, you sit by her side and just look at her for a while, stroking her hand, even though you know there is no way she can return the hold. It takes you a few deep breaths to ask her the question that's been under your tongue from the first moment.

"It is your turn now to tell a story. How did you end up like this?"

Aradia tries to smile again, and this time she almost manages.

"Long story. Not... now. Thanks, Kanaya... thanks."

You have to squeeze your eyes shut and swallow, gripping her limp hand tight, before you can tell her exactly what you don't want to.

"We will have to plug you back in, Aradia. We cannot... set you free."

Aradia smiles again, and for a moment you think you feel something brushing your hand, but you must have imagined it because her hand is lying as limp as before.

"I know. It's ok."

"No, I am definitely sure it is not ok," you say, worrying at your lower lip. "How can you say such a thing?"

There's something different about the light in her eyes as she looks at you, still smiling. Something familiar, like a crackle of fire. The glimpse of that life you knew.

"Because... I have... a secret."

You're not sure why your blood pusher starts hammering so loud at her words. You're not sure why you're holding your breath, or what this tingle is at the back of your head, as if someone that could never possibly do it were stroking your hair. What you do know is that you bend over her to hear her better, and she tells you. 

* * *

III.

You are now Vriska Serket, and you're about to go insane.

The ship feels like new, stable again and more powerful than ever before, since Kanaya plugged Aradia back in. She really did a great job in getting her back into shape, but now you can't really appreciate this. Not with what you've just discovered from the Captain's log and the security cameras footage. Not with this raw, unfamiliar rage pulsing under your skin. It's been a while since the last time you've been this angry, and what gets you the most is that you should have seen this coming. You should have asked yourself why the crew looked so frightened, why it was all so easy. You shouldn't have just assumed that with your enemy out of their element and a malfunctioning ship, your crew looked more fearsome than ever.

Yours is not a line of business in which it pays to be overconfident.

You bolt off the captain's chair to storm down into the Helm. Aradia smiles and raises her head to look at you as much as she can with her restraints. You point a finger at her, shaking, mad at your own frustration. How can you get mad at a sentient battery pack? How can you get mad at someone who can't even touch you, who can't even move or eat or survive on their own? How can you be outright scared of them? You don't like being scared.

You know what happens to scared people.

"It was you all along, wasn't it," you say, your voice much less firm than what you'd like. Her smile just grows wider, and an icy shiver rolls down your spine. "I saw what you did to them."

If you close your eyes, you still see the blurry shapes in the cam footage. You see the laughssassins screaming, running around the ship, begging forgiveness - and you see the shadows, the shadows coming alive, talking to them. Countless shadows, each one with a face and a name.

"I had... to make them pay," she whispers, not taking her eyes off you. You swallow, and you feel like the air's turning colder. At least that must be why the hairs on your arms stand up.

"You summoned the dead. Kanaya told me what they did to you: they kept burning you out and just didn't care about the aftereffects. I think that's what did it in the end, I think you built up a resistance to the submission serums, and they really had no idea. You gained enough freedom to use your powers and scare them with their own ghosts. I checked the instrumentation, there was no trace of psionic anomaly. You shut all systems down, but you still let them broadcast their call for help. You still let them fall into my trap, and only then you started giving into the exhaustion. Now tell me what the fuck you want from me, Megido, because I've had enough."

A low, rhythmic rumble builds up in Aradia's throat, and it takes you a few terrified moments to understand that she's not choking, but she's laughing. She's actually laughing. At you. God you hate her so much.

"What makes... you think... you have... something I want?"

You grit your fangs, crossing your arms on your chest.

"You did everything in your power to ensure the  _Scarlet Lightning_ fell into my hands. You made it easy on me, and now you're even rubbing it in my face, because I'm sure you could have reset the Captain's log and not let me see anything, but you didn't. So you want to be sure I know I owe you, don't you? Because there _is_ something you want."

Aradia laughs again, and this time you gasp because it's almost a real laugh, you almost recognize her voice. You remember your old FLARP adversary, both hated and feared, pigheaded and full of energy, so easy to underestimate. All the better to challenge.

"What makes... you think... I will make it easy on you?"

Aradia closes her eyes, and the lights in the room suddenly grow in a flash, blinding you. You yelp and stagger forward, but you do not fall. A soft, warm touch that isn't really there strokes your shoulders, balancing you, and only as you open your eyes again, you realize how close you've become. She smells like disinfectants and mind honey, and you can feel her warmth radiating off her skin, the suffocating warmth of a rustblood. Her eyes blink back at you, huge maroon eyes crowned by thick lashes, and you realize that the warmth you still feel around your shoulders is nothing more than herself - her own psychic gift, the only form of touch she has left. She's holding you close to her, but she's become powerful enough that she could throw you through the nearest wall, or try to strangle you, or simply shut down the whole ship, if she only wanted. And yet, she isn't doing it. You can still move, and you could just turn around and leave, if you only wanted. You could go upstairs and restore what is commonly considered a proper Helmsman discipline with her: punishing, brutalizing and heavily sedating her until the resistance she's built up becomes useless, and she's reduced to what she was meant to be all along- little more than a battery pack. If you only wanted.

But as you look at her deep, glistening maroon eyes, and the soft curve of her full lips trembling just a few inches from yours, the raging fire under your skin lights up again, burning fear away, and you realize that you don't really want to.

Yours is not a line of business in which it really pays to play it safe.

"I really hope you won't. I'd hate it if it were boring," you say, a smirk almost unwillingly appearing on your face. As the tips of your noses brush together, you close your eyes, and you don't really know if it's you dipping down or her drawing you closer.

"Then you must... know I already... have everything... I want... now."

You taste her breathing on your lips. You don't pull away.

* * *

IV.

You are now Aradia Megido, the Helmsman of the  _Scarlet Lightning_ , and you have everything you need.

The laughssassins had signed their own death sentence when they started slacking around on your schedule. Intoxicated by the power allowed them by the Empire, they had started treating you like a toy instead of a resource. They constantly overdosed you on submission serums to drive you to your limits and punished you when you failed, but they weren't really good at taking care of your health. They didn't realize this was only giving you more time to stay lucid, grow stronger and learn your way around the limits imposed on you.

You had recognized Vriska's presence from a while, and carefully orchestrated your plan to work with hers in a perfect symphony, without her knowing, of course. She'd hate it if she'd known you had actually meant her to conquer the ship all along - but of course you would still reveal it in the end. How else could you keep her interested - how else could you bring her to allow you your freedom, to have you on board as her equal and not as a tool - if not by giving her a good challenge?

You hate her, of course, just like she hates you in all the right ways. You keep dragging her into endless discussions of what the best itinerary to get to her various illicit targets is - only to end up doing things your way and taking the longest, less conspicuous and definitely most interesting path. You keep rerouting her illicit calls to various inappropriate destinations, occasionally resulting in unexpected interesting deals, such as spicy food takeaway stations, support associations for the variously addicted or erotic phone services (the latter once made Kanaya flush a deep jade right up to her ears, and it was the cutest thing). You still chat a lot with Kanaya, of course, and if one day your mind starts falling to pieces and you become dangerous, you trust her to do the right thing and bring you back under control, no matter how much she has to hurt you: she studied your unique case enough now that you're sure she will know exactly what to do. But for now, you're just glad to have the both of them around. Once you blasted all the lights and screens on deck to maximum intensity just because you were bored, and Kanaya had to lead a blinded Vriska around by the hand through her ranting and cursing, which made you hope for the best - but you don't really want to intrude on their relationship. Not that you'd say no to nudging things in the right direction if the occasion comes, but they need to figure out where they stand on their own.

All the risks you took and the pain you faced were worth it. You have your kismesis on your side, as well as your dearest friend, and you're at the Helm of one of the fastest Imperial frigates ever created. And no, you cannot stop being an Helmsman, but you are free - free to see new worlds, explore the universe and its infinite stories as you always wanted, and you're free to do it on your own terms.

You are Aradia Megido and you've never felt more alive than this.


End file.
